Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Insecure Writers Support Group
It's that time again, and since I missed last month I wanted to make sure I posted today. I'm still insecure with my writing, and here's how this month.
I had sent an email to a regional writers group trying to get into contact with other writers in my area. The result was that four of us met in person at a local bookstore and compared notes for an hour and a half. I was worried that I'd be meeting hopelessly awful "writers" that I would feel obligated to teach how to write English. Instead, I met highly educated people, one of whom has representation but is yet unpublished, a published poet working on her master's in creative writing, and a journalist from a local paper. Oh, and did I mention the writer with an agent is also a registered nurse, like myself, except she's the head of the RN to BSN program at a college. And then there was little 'ol me.
To make it worse, my social phobia was in full form, and 75% of me wanted to hide somewhere in a corner.
Despite all that, the end result was that I left thrilled with the prospect of having critique partners to push and inspire me, and I hope I can help them in some way in return.
With that, today was a horrible day for me. I had to put down my dog Cookie. The first time I saw her was about two years ago- an old, lame, deaf dog with ear infections and covered in sores at the animal shelter where I volunteer. I couldn't stand to see her in the cold, dirty kennel during the winter, so I brought her home as a foster. Then, I fell in love with her. The sweetest dog ever, she wagged her tail constantly unless she was sleeping. She was 11 years old, and after years of neglect, she finally found what it was to be loved, and she loved me back.
And as the Lorax from Dr. Seuss says,
UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better,
I console myself with the fact that I cared a whole awful lot. She was worth it.